


Page Twenty-Two

by ayoungrat



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 14:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayoungrat/pseuds/ayoungrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Ian wasn’t sure of which category he’d been placed in, in Mickey’s collection, but he shrugged that thought off and figured he must’ve fit somewhere.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Page Twenty-Two

**Author's Note:**

> (Set between 3x04 and 3x06)

    "Hey, I have this one!" Ian exclaimed, holding up the crinkled magazine so Mickey could see. They'd been rummaging through Mickey's porn stash for about a half-hour, sitting on the floor of Mickey's pigsty of a bedroom, drinking tall boys and picking out the most fuckable models in the hoodlum's collection of filth.  
  
    Ian found it surprising that Mickey had such an eclectic collection of porn; his magazines and DVDs varied from dudes with bulging muscles, scrawny twinks, gay for pay, black guys, etc. Ian wasn't sure of which category he'd been placed in, in Mickey's collection, but he shrugged that thought off and figured he must've fit _somewhere_.  
      
    It was around 3 o'clock on a hot Saturday in the summer. Ian and Mickey could hear the ice-cream truck rolling along the street; a swarm of hood rat children focusing their attention on the treats within, jogging beside it and banging their stubby hands on the walls of the truck, demanding that their ice-cream be free from hostage.  
  
    "Yeah, I stole it from your book bag last week," Mickey admitted, unashamedly cocking his head to the side, waiting for a reaction. Mickey was always one to try and get a reaction from the redhead, a reaction that he was pretty sure Ian was aware of since he never got it.  
  
    "Dick." Ian muttered plainly, setting the magazine next to him on the carpet for safe keeping. Mickey shrugged, glancing down at the magazine in his lap, disappointed that he hadn't gotten the rise from Gallagher that he'd hope for.  
  
    As they kept gulping beer and commenting on the attributes of the models, Mickey started thinking about the magazine, picturing it laid across Ian's knees, the page corners catching air and fluttering slightly from the rapid movement of the redhead working his cock and staring at one of the guys in it. He hoped it was the dude on page #22. The guy with lean muscles, stubble on his face and a tattoo of a bird silhouette on his ribs.  
  
    Mickey's cock twitched in his jeans, something it surprisingly hadn't been doing this whole time. Feeling impulsive, he leaned forward and snatched the magazine, throwing it across the room onto his bed.  
  
    He wasn't sure of where he was going with this.  
  
    "Hey- fuck you!" Ian shouted, gesturing his hands upward in shock. "Gonna ruin the pages, asshole!"  
  
    That's more like it, Mickey thought, smirking and scratching the bridge of his nose with his thumb as Ian stood up and walked towards his bed; a sight that went straight to the older boy's cock. Ian carefully picked up the magazine and sat down on the mattress. His intentions were purely innocent while he flipped through the pages, nodding nostalgically at a picture of a man rimming another in the back seat of a car.  
  
    'Fuck,' Mickey thought, his frustration now growing along side his hard-on. But he tried to keep casual - wouldn't want Ian to see his desperation or else he'd never live it down. "So, uh," He accidentally stuttered, clearing his throat loudly. He nodded towards the magazine in Ian's hands and then quickly glanced back down at his own porn, "who's your favorite?"  
  
    "I dunno," Ian replied still looking at the page, pursing his lips and shrugging lightly with indifference. He quickly flipped through the remaining pages, "I like em all."  
  
    Mickey rolled his eyes to the side, still sitting 'indian style' on the floor, cigarette ashes probably adhering to his pants. He readjusted his boner in his jeans; fortunately Ian was too engrossed in his porn to notice. Mickey wasn't sure if Ian was being oblivious on purpose, or if the fuckhead really was too stupid to catch his drift.  
   
    "What about you? Which one was your favorite?" Ian asked, still sounding innocent as ever. Mickey was still imagining Ian jacking off when his thoughts were broken by the question.  
  
    "Shit, I dunno," Mickey lied, tossing the magazine he had into the small pile of the rest on the floor. "There's one guy who's pretty hot in there."  
  
    "What page?" Ian sounded like a simply curious child, going through all the pages, trying to find which one Mickey was referring to.  
  
    "I don't pay attention to fuckin' page numbers," Mickey lied again with feigned venom, wiping his knuckle just under his left eye upward. He paused, trying to pick his words carefully. "I bet it's, uh, good to see that again, hmm?"  
  
    "Sure, I guess so," Ian shrugged again, glancing at Mickey for a moment and re-fixating his eyes on the page in front of him. _'The fuck is this kid's deal?'_   Ian thought, pinning his brows for a split second.  
  
    "Well, I mean…" Mickey made another attempt, "…we haven't fucked in a couple days and, uh, you must be getting full." He tried to be nonchalant, but his eyes were starting to glare at how un-smooth he knew he was being. _'Did I really just talk about his balls?'_ Mickey wanted to punch himself in the face, his glare aimed at the floor becoming even more menacing. This plan wasn't working at all.  
  
    That's what he gets for banging a dumbass-ginger-fuckhead like Gallagher, Mickey thought.  
  
    Ian snorted with a half-smile, oblivious as ever. His eyes finally met Mickey's glare. The older boy nodded, waiting for him to catch the fuck on. "What?" Ian asked, confused by Mickey's expression.  
  
    'Jesus, this fucker's more unaware than Mandy,' Mickey thought, rolling his eyes and sighing hard.  
      
    "What?" Ian asked again. Mickey seemed so nervous, fidgeting and giving odd stares.  
  
    "Christ," Mickey barked, getting off the floor and charging towards Ian. He swatted away the magazine covering the redhead's lap, knocking it next to Ian on the bed. With Mickey's rough helping hand, Ian's belt was undone in two seconds and his bottoms were yanked down to his knees a half a second later.  
  
    Still glaring at Ian, Mickey stood in front of the redhead like he was waiting for him to do something - which he was. Ian propped his hand on the headboard and moved to kneel on the bed, still facing Mickey. When the older boy didn't immediately lunge for him, Ian cocked his head, confused. "Well," Ian gestured from Mickey to himself as if he were inviting him into a hug, smiling, "c'mon."  
  
    Mickey blankly pushed Ian to lean his back against the headboard. He grabbed the magazine, tossed it into his lap and backed away, staring at Ian's flaccid cock with now half-lidded eyes.  
  
    Ian finally got the message as his eyes followed Mickey, who backed up against the door and slid himself to the ground. They stared into each other's eyes while Mickey undid his belt and slid his bottoms down to his ankles. They'd never done this before: jerking off in front of each other. And with good reason. What's the point of jacking off when they can easily just fuck each other, they both thought.  
  
    But today, Mickey was curious to see how Ian gets off when he's not around.  
  
    What face does he make? Is it different from when they're together? Does he make different sounds or stroke his cock in a different way than when he jerks Mickey off?  
  
    These questions made Mickey want to kick his own ass into next week.  
  
    The hoodlum nodded towards the magazine, not saying a word or giving any orders. No need. Ian smirked and looked all over Mickey's body, momentarily thinking 'fuck that' and wanting to fuck him instead of fucking himself. But then he realized that Mickey was clearly out of his comfort zone and didn't want him to feel rejected. All that would've achieved is causing Mickey to crawl further back into the closet.  
  
    Plus, this could be fun, he thought.  
  
    Ian pushed his jeans and boxers a little lower down his calves, reaching for the nightstand. He helped himself to Mickey's bottle of lube and squirted a small amount onto the head of his now growing cock.  
  
    "Oh, hey- toss it over" Mickey mumbled, putting his hands up in a catching position. Ian obliged, watching Mickey like a hawk, absorbing every detail as the older boy squirted lube onto one of his palms before rubbing his hands together, slicking them both up. Ian used the fingertips of his right hand to gently massage the lube around his own length.  
  
    Ian picked the magazine up, unsure of what page to stroke himself to. He glanced over at Mickey, "Which one?" They both knew what Ian was asking.  
  
    Mickey was fully erect by now and didn't give a shit about how gay he was going to sound. "Page twenty-two." He said, quite matter-of-factly.  
  
    Ian rolled his eyes and grinned. _'I fucking knew it,'_ he thought. Taking Mickey's advice, he flipped through the magazine until he found page twenty-two. "Oh, yeah… good choice." Mickey nodded in agreement, feeling prideful for having picked out a good image.  
  
    Ian held the magazine in his left hand and paused, unsure of how to go about this. Should he simply whack off to the picture? Occasionally glance over at Mickey while he does it? Describe what he's doing in great detail as it happens?  
  
    Mickey could sense that Ian was partially overwhelmed by so many options, as the redhead kept shifting his eyes from the magazine to his own dick, to Mickey and back to the magazine. "Just do it like you're alone," Mickey insisted with a sort of encouragement in his voice before staring intently at Ian's hips; the sunlight peering through the blinds and creating a striped pattern on the redhead's flesh.  
  
    Ian shrugged and opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but rolled his eyes at whatever was on the tip of tongue. He adjusted himself on Mickey's bed, spreading his bent knees wider; Mickey did the same on the floor. Ian began rubbing the pubes just above his cock, pulling the magazine closer to his face. Mickey licked his lips, leaving them parted afterward as Ian worked his hand lower onto his shaft.  
  
    Ian's eyes were growing dreamy while he stared at the man on the page. It was a simple picture; the man was standing naked outside, holding his fat, hard dick in his hand and giving big, blue _'fuck me'_ eyes to whomever should be perusing the page. Ian delivered a long, drawn out stroke from base to tip, lightly squeezing the spongy head in his fingertips. He swirled the oozing precum around the tip of his cock, letting out a breathy moan.  
  
    Mickey's breath hitched at the sight of the redhead snapping his hips upward and thrusting his dick into his curled hand and biting his lip until it became flush and glossy with saliva. Mickey stroked himself with both hands, enveloping his cock in slicked fingers and palms, admiring Gallagher; entranced by his stomach rising and falling with breaths that grew faster and faster as he kept tugging and grunting. Mickey noticed Ian's toes curling and his lips twisting from both pleasure and determination to finish; his strokes becoming merciless. Mickey, however, maintained a slower pace, taking in every sensation that the visual of Ian provided.  
  
    Ian's eyes were glued to the magazine while Mickey's eyes were glued to Ian's every move, moistening his mouth like he wanted to eat the younger boy for dinner. Ian was almost to the edge before he finally glanced over at Mickey and his two hands working himself nice and steady.  
  
    Mickey took his eyes off Ian and focused them on his own dick, his pace finally getting faster. Having now tossed the magazine to the bed, Ian admired Mickey's body, as well as his technique, the sight of it getting him impossibly harder as he stroked faster, his hips bucking uncontrollably.    
  
    Mickey slid his shirt up with one hand, holding the fabric against his chest, creating a space for his jizz to shoot onto. He closed his eyes and threw his head against the door as he came, his load spurting all over his stomach, releasing a loud, whimpering moan. Ian kept jerking, getting closer as he watched Mickey panting and rubbing his cum into his skin, like sunscreen. The redhead quickly followed, gasping for air as white cream shot into the air and landed on his shirt.  
      
    Mickey closed his eyes, grinning lazily and panting as he half laid against the door, all sweaty and sticky. Ian was in a similar position, for a moment, before reaching down to slide his boxers and jeans back on. "Oh shit," Ian said, glancing down at the sticky blobs of baby batter on his navy blue top. Mickey raised his eyebrows, his eyes lagging before opening to see the mess on Ian.  
  
    "Fuckin' idiot," Mickey said with a snort.  
  
    "Fuck, how am I supposed to go home with this shit all over me?" Ian whined, standing up off the bed.  
  
    Mickey simply shrugged.  
  
    Ian thought for a moment before the sudden sound of the front door opening interrupted him. Mandy was out with Lip and Molly, so it was probably Iggy. The footsteps weren't that heavy and didn't make that much noise, so it couldn't have been Terry.  
  
    "Shit!" Mickey whispered, rushing over to Ian, nearly tripping over his jeans. "You gotta get the fuck outta here!"  
  
    "How!? Your brother's out there…" Ian replied, frantically.  
  
    "The fuckin' window!" Mickey barked quietly, as if that should be obvious. Ian sighed and dropped his shoulders as Mickey pulled up his pants. Naturally, he was going to oblige.  
  
    The redhead rushed over to the window and opened it, pushing aside the makeshift blinds and swung one leg over the windowsill. Mickey quickly grabbed Ian's magazine from the bed and made a gesture, like he was handing it to him. "Here."  
  
    Ian laughed quietly and waved his hand as if to say 'no thanks.' "You keep it," he whispered with erratic breathing. Mickey smirked back at him and watched as the Gallagher boy swung his other leg over the windowsill and slid out onto the ground. He gave the hoodlum a quick wink before turning around and heading back to his place, remaining inconspicuous, so no one would notice he'd just snuck out of that damn Milkovich kid's bedroom.


End file.
